


How to Hit it Big at Work

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is the new intern at a low-budget news station, and as much as he loves his work, he can’t help but fantasize about sticking his hand down the front of his producer’s pants and giving whatever he finds there a good squeeze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Hit it Big at Work

**Author's Note:**

> Smut with no real release in the end--sorry!!!
> 
> This exists because I fell in love with the producer for my university’s news program…or maybe it was lust? I don’t know, but Frank’s probably going to get farther than I did!

Frank didn’t see himself as a horny, over-sexed teenager. He never really found himself completely and utterly out of control of his sex-drive, never was left pining after a man or woman in hopes of getting his dick sucked or his ass licked. Not really…

Until he began his first day with the Channel 9 news crew. Though immensely underfunded and about to go under the radar, the local station had some pretty impressive people doing some really impressive things behind the scenes…

Technology-wise of course. There wasn’t any fucking on the anchors’ desk between tapings or dry-humping in the closet or bathroom…no handjobs behind the desk either. 

Frank had felt almost honored to be allowed to be a part of this team, even if it was just as a temporary aid…It seemed the producer—apparently a stuck-up bitch—had fired someone and the station was having trouble finding an acceptable substitute. Frank was filling the fired-person’s place while the acceptable-substitute was found…

He’d never met the producer and he’d wished at first that there was a way for it to stay that way. In private, various employees warned him not to cross the producer, not to piss of the producer—they didn’t have time to replace him too, and not to ‘get the bitch PMSing.’ The producer was apparently a mother-fucking-cock-sucking-diva-drama queen…

No one told him the cock-sucking-drama queen was a fucking man with really fucking tight jeans…or that his hair would be just-fucked-‘kay-thanks messy…or that his clothes would look so wrong on him because he was so fucking hot he needed to be naked…

No one told him that the bitch who agreed to let him work there was So.Fucking.Sexy…From messy hair to sleepy eyes to pouty lips…to nipples that hardened visibly beneath his black button-down shirt when the fabric grated against them wrong—or _right_ , just fuckin’ right…to the subtle bulge in his black jeans that Frank just wanted to brush against. Rub…kiss…lick… _suck_.

The first time Frank saw him, really _saw_ him, he’d wanted to suck him so good and so hard that the seemingly permanent sleepy and dissatisfied look left the producer, Gerard Way’s face and left it bliss-stricken and sweaty.

But Frank couldn’t focus on that—he had to write the script. He was an assistant copywriter, coffee getting, typo-fixing lackey…

( ) ( ) ( )

The second day on the job, Frank told himself that he’d be over his strange infatuation—it was just a passing desire to fuck someone hot—nothing a few extra minutes in the shower before work…and after work…—couldn’t fix.

But then he laid eyes on the producer again and found himself tracing every line of his body with his eyes…again. Disheveled hair, stress lines on his young face, tired eyes, sexy lips just asking to have something hot and hard shoved between them…leaking only a line or two of spit and come…Those nipples dying to be touched—tugged on…bitten. God that bulge in his pants just needed rubbed against a few times.

Frank was more than willing to do that for him if he’d just stand by his station a little longer and let him offer…

“Good work on this,” Gerard said to him that night, looking over the script he was writing. He wasn’t there for more than a second, leaning over the back of Frank’s chair and making his cock jump within the confines of his dress pants—no fair the producer could run around wearing jeans and he couldn’t—and then he was gone again, drifting off to another part of the studio. “Good to know _someone_ is doing their fucking work.”

“Come back,” Frank wanted to say. “Come here and let me show you how good of work I can do on that cock…” It was horrific wording—not even worthy of a basement porno—but it was what he wanted to say.

And the rest of the night as he wrote up a story about a woman who had been murdered, he dreamt of Gerard coming to him, unzipping his pants, and holding Frank’s head still so he could fuck his mouth in front of the rest of the news crew...Hell, maybe even a live camera would accidently send the gorgeous scene into the houses of the station’s three-hundred-and-some viewers.

“Fuck me, Gee,” Frank whispered under his breath, trying not to drool as he finished his work for the night…

( ) ( ) ( )

A week—a fucking _week_ and Frank still wanted to fuck the man…the _bitch_. Yeah, Gerard was a bitch—whiny, unsympathetic, cruel, and snobby…but he was so fucking sexy that it made up for his trashy personality. 

And what was worse, Frank just wanted to beat the bitch out of him—literally… What if he just grabbed him while he was criticizing someone’s work, took off his belt, and slapped him across the ass with it a few times? If that didn’t calm him down, he could always take his pants down and start to fuck him…

Something about his snobbery told Frank that the man wouldn’t so much like being bent over the news desk and fucked raw by a virtual stranger…

But maybe if he tied the bitch up with a mic cord…he’d be helpless and he’d love it…both Frank and the bitchy little slut of a producer.

Maybe he was a pussy as well as a bitch—maybe a few slaps across the face or across the ass would leave him a sniveling mess… Too easy to push over that desk, strip, and fuck.

But why make it quick? Why not slow it down, kiss his shoulder blades, suck his neck, spread his legs and lick his ass.

A month…A _month_ and he was still having these filthy thoughts. This was his producer he was dreaming of fucking—and it was interfering with every aspect of his life. Gerard sat near him, and he stared at his outlined cock in his tight pants…He dreamed of fucking him—even though he knew the guy enough to know he didn’t _like_ the guy. He was an ass—he was an ass before he was a bitch…

And then it happened…it all ended up making sense…

The station head showed up with a list of complaints…

His arrival had been foreshadowed by Gerard’s complete disinterest in the projects of the day. He’d sat at his desk—suit, tie, loose pants—head in his hands and combed hair looking just as sad as his posture. To Frank, he’d looked like he’d been defeated…like he’d lost something…

Or someone.

“PMS,” one of the other employees mumbled in Frank’s ear as he went to his station in the studio. Frank scoffed at the man and watched Gerard with sympathy and interest…and then the station head arrived.

And bitched…

This wasn’t right, that wasn’t handled properly, this shouldn’t be on the set, that needs replaced, this person was in need of firing—that person needed a promotion…if only janitorial service could help the ‘fucking news crew.’ 

The station head blamed the producer—blamed Gerard who had straightened himself but still looked defeated and ruined. And then it was like a…like a _roast._ It became mutiny. Everyone blamed Gerard for everything wrong.

Well he said to keep it like that. He won’t let us use funds to replace that. He wants things his way. He’s stuck on his own opinion. He’s a bully…

It became very clear to Frank by the look on the station head’s face that Gerard probably wasn’t going to be working for Channel 9 news next month… 

So if he was going to act on anything—it would have to be now. As Gerard was leaving the building for the night after the final taping. 

None of the other crew members either noticed or acknowledged that Frank followed him out of the studio, or that he chased him down the sidewalk.

“G-Gerard!?” Frank called, not really sure if he should call his producer by his first name or not, but deciding it didn’t matter if the man was about to be fired anyway. The man stopped and looked back, he looked confused and not at all depressed or defeated like he had just minutes before.

“Intern?” Gerard asked, a tone of confusion and vague humor. “What do _you_ need?” Once Frank caught up with him, Gerard began walking again, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his military-style jacket to defend them from the cold—or just to make himself look that much more mysterious and sexy—because there was an allure to a man with his hands deep inside his pockets.

To Frank at least.

However, now that he’d caught up to him…Frank realized he had nothing to say. He couldn’t say the real reason why he was approaching him. He couldn’t say “Well, I’ve been ogling you these last months and I’ve decided I want to try to actually get in your pants rather than just dream about it.” 

“Can’t remember or do you just want to escort me home to make sure I stay there and don’t come back Monday?” 

“Only if you _want_ me to stay the weekend,” Frank said, cringing against the open-mouthed, perplexed stare that his producer gave him. Yeah…being up-front about it wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Actually—uh…I just wanted to say that, um. That was really harsh—”

“Yeah, that’s the industry,” Gerard said, shaking his head and messing up his nicely combed hair. “I don’t care. They can throw me under the bus—my severance pay is nice—I don’t care.”

“They fired you?” Frank asked, trying to keep up with the other man’s long strides. To just walk with him made his dreams—his perverted dreams and his new, cleaner ones—seem almost touchable. 

“Yeah…it’s okay. I saw it coming about a month ago when they brought that sexy little Chinese woman through the studio. Remember her?” How had Frank missed a random Asian girl walking around the studio? “No…okay then. Well, I figured she was going to be taking my job soon, so I didn’t really feel half as pathetic as I made it look today.”

“What are you going to do until you get another job?” Frank asked, watching as his apartment complex slid by and thinking about how he could have watched Gerard walk by every day if he’d only known…

“I have another job,” Gerard answered. “Don’t look so surprised,” Gerard added when he saw what must’ve been Frank’s stupid, surprised expression. “I do art for another department on the upper floor of our building. I’m just going to put in extra hours there. I like it better, anyway. I don’t have to be a dick to get myself fired. I never wanted to be in a manager position.”

“How did you end up producer then?” Frank asked, just to keep the man talking, suddenly desperate to hear more from him than just moaning. Gerard started telling a story about filling in as a temporary design editor for a man who’d broken an arm, how his work was so well-liked he was offered an actual position…how that eventually turned into an offer for becoming producer—an offer he had to accept if he wanted to stay working for the company. The company he was now glad to be getting away from.

By the time they reached the front porch of a townhouse, Frank realized that he now knew too much about this guy—now felt he’d talked to this guy too much—to want to turn him into a quick one-night-stand…he was in uncharted territory and didn’t know which way to run. 

Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing the tight pants anymore and the power of his cock was stifled…

“So…I guess I… _won’t_ see you Monday?” Frank said, backing away from the porch as Gerard fished a key out of his pocket.

“Did you seriously follow me to my house to tell me that?” Gerard asked, looking at Frank skeptically over his shoulder as he pushed his front door open. “Come on. Come inside.” He shoved the door the rest of the way open and motioned for Frank to follow him inside. “You act like no one notices you staring at my cock. Jesus Christ—don’t make me do _all_ the work.”

So maybe he should’ve been a little more subtle about it…Either way, it got him in this man’s house, so maybe it’d get him a little farther.

“Oh, and just so you know,” Gerard said, looking at Frank as he took off his coat. “I don’t go all the way unless you buy me dinner…and I’m not hungry tonight.”

Judging by the playful look in the other man’s eyes, Frank easily assumed that he was lying. 

Maybe he just needed force-fed something a little salty.


End file.
